Hell's Matchmaker
by Hiruma Musouka
Summary: The long and short of it is this: Gabriel should have known better.  Direct sequel to "A  Mostly  Selfless Deed"


Title: Hell's Matchmaker  
Author: Hiruma Musouka ( **prismdropz** )  
Beta: **princess_aleera** (praise her!)  
Rating: PG-13  
Pairing: Dean/Gabriel & hints of pre Dean/Castiel  
Warnings: strongly hinted adult activities offscreen, moderate cursing, and implied disregard of certain canonical events which sucked (like 5.22 - however much thought wasn't given as to how the apocalypse was actually resolved in this sorta AU since it's not the focus of the fic)  
Word Count: 3,312  
Notes: written with my kissbingo card in mind. The prompt is "other: punch drunk". It's a direct sequel to A (Mostly) Selfless Deed and there's definitely going to be a third part but college and work will delay it for a while. I need to earn enough money to go to Japan for the summer classes I want (U.U)

* * *

_Hey, Sam_.

"Dean?" Sam asked, surprised. He glanced at his watch and yup, still 4:30 a.m. "Why are you calling so early and- wait, are you okay? You sound odd."

_Yeah, sure, Sam. I'm fine, just… would your girl mind if I crash in the spare room for a day or so_? Dean's voice definitely sounded off, no question about it.

"No problem. She's on a trip for work right now so- CHRIST!" Sam shouted as Dean popped into existence in front of him.

He wasn't alone either. Gabriel – despite being shorter – had one of Dean's arms slung over his shoulder and looked to be supporting most of their weight. Dean, meanwhile, was giving Sam that tight smile that meant he was shoving down as much pain as he could and denying it existed.

"What the hell happened to you!" Sam interrogated as Gabriel led a limping Dean over to the couch.

"Well, Sammy, it uh… you remember that job I said I was taking in Michigan? The one with the low body count but the really fucking weird autopsies?"

"Yeah…?"

"Well, it uh…" Dean hesitated again and to Sam's utter shock blushed faintly while glancing at Gabriel before steadfastly staring at the ceiling, "it kind of went… weird…"

* * *

The long and short of it is this: Gabriel should have known better.

He's existed for millennia, lived through the highs and lows of humanity (with a depressing lack of variety in candy until recently), watched countless beings make fatal mistakes, and spent the last two thousand years being the _cause_ of a lot of bizarre situations.

There was no excuse for why he didn't see this coming. He should have _known_ not to pop in right next to a Winchester.

He slowly wiped a hand over his face and could feel each feather on every one of his wings shiver in disgust at the- the-

"What is this stuff?" he complained to Winchester version 1.0 (or is that 1.5 with a slight upgrade of physical renewal and hand print brand – tact not included?).

"Not a clue," Dean said while smirking at Gabriel's goo-covered form, "but the pinkish purple really suits you- hey!" He glared as Gabriel flung a handful of it at his chest. "Don't you think I have enough of this shit on me? I look like someone tried to make me into a tie-dye shirt!"

Gabriel rolled his eyes before snapping himself and 1.0 clean of the crap. He had to admit, silently, that Dean had a point. The place looked like a Mardi Gras party went wild, except with paint instead of colored beads. Or maybe like a graffiti artist had tried to make a neon masterpiece on the walls while being high on LSD and paint thinner.

"Considering a change in careers, Dean? If so, you might want to be sober for your next attempt."

"Yeah, like I'd ever ruin a leather jacket this way on purpose. Hell, if I'm really unlucky, the demon put some sort of contact poison in this shit and I'm about two minutes away from finding out how Cas's spring cleaning is going on upstairs."

Gabriel raised an eyebrow before biting into a Bon-Bon, "First: hello? Archangel! Poison's easy to fix and even though you and Sammy-boy are separate at the moment with him playing house; you're still the most interesting show on Earth. Second: you'll want to avoid Upstairs for a while. Little bro' is currently discovering that being on the other side of the equation when dealing with our siblings doesn't make them any less of a pain. Third: you went after a demon without backup?"

"Aw, someone might think you care, Gabe!" Dean made a convincing attempt at sounding mocking, but there was a little to much awkwardness in his voice and a little too much confused pleasure in his soul to fool even the densest cherub.

"Most people," Gabriel drawled sarcastically, "would think that caring is implied after I kissed you at the wedding."

"Uh, I um…" Dean stuttered a bit and started blushing, "SO, what are you doing here!"

They stared at each other for a moment; Dean still twitching towards the house's front door.

"You're even worse at these types of conversations than I am." Gabriel said incredulously.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dean said firmly before peeling off his shirt and trying to shake the smoothie-like gunk off it.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. Dean couldn't possibly think he was fooling anyone. Really. Jörmungandr was subtler than this and he was a _leviathan_. Not to mention-

He paused.

There was a very faint, almost nonexistent itching sensation on his left hand. He stared at his hand with narrowed, suspicious eyes and snapped his fingers again (ignoring Dean's inquisitive look) to remove the very top layer of epidermal cells.

Nope, still there. It wasn't only in his hand either. His vessel's face and chest were also starting to itch and his heart had involuntarily sped up a tiny bit. It wouldn't slow down at his command either. Which, frankly, should be damn impossible because he'd made this vessel himself and there shouldn't be anything in the universe (except Dad) which could supersede his own directives.

"Which demon did you say you ran into?" Gabriel asked, switching gears abruptly. Dean looked both confused and a little bit relieved. _And scrumptious_, Gabriel thought distractedly, watching a trail of the bright blue liquid ooze down Dean's neck. _Mustn't forget scrumptious_.

"It's not like the thing left a damn calling card or anything. Most demons don't give polite introductions before trying to disembowel a Hunter."

"Yes, yes," Gabriel shook a hand impatiently, shivering as an minor shock ran down his spine. "But you've been slowly developing a knack for seeing things you're not supposed to be able to. That incident at Sam's with my robes was hardly the first or last time – even if you haven't mentioned it to anyone yet."

"No, I haven't," Dean frowned.

"Do you think most Hunters can pick a werewolf in human form outside of a full moon out of a crowd with a glance? Or how about noticing when a fairy's fluttering about in your peripheral vision? Most humans can't see the fae unless they want to be seen, never mind noticing one before it has a chance to play tricks." The itching was beginning to drive Gabriel a little batty. His blood was slowly heating up and he'd combed over the vessel _twice_ and not seen any difference in it. Whoever did this was good. If any of Gabriel's younger siblings had managed it, he would have given them a fruit basket. With candy. And soda. And lube. And maybe some fuzzy handcuffs and porn. Unless it was Anna. Gabriel didn't think Anna needed any porn. She'd certainly managed to get Dean into bed successfully.

Which had absolutely nothing to do with Gabriel's irritation at her. NOTHING. He just thought she was a little idiot for ripping out her grace like she had. That was ALL. … And how did he even get on this subject?

"… well," Dean said slowly, "I thought I saw a few feathers before the goop appeared."

Gabriel snapped his eyes to the Hunter so fast he nearly got whiplash.

"It had WINGS!" he bellowed uncharacteristically. Dean jerked back slightly and then just stared as he absentmindedly rubbed at his chest.

"Maybe, it wasn't exactly on display or anything."

Gabriel cursed and wished pointlessly that he'd stuck to his original plan of stalking Dean after the wedding, instead of giving him a little space. Or at least thought to foist some of his baby brothers onto Dean under the pretense of learning about pop culture. "Demons don't _have _wings! Not ones with feathers anyway. Leather wings or furry wings or skeletal wings or something, but never _feathers_."

"His eyes flashed red," Dean insisted.

"The _Fallen_ can make their vessel's eyes any color they want," Gabriel growled as heat built in his chest.

There was perfect silence for a moment.

"Well, shit."

"Exactly," Gabriel drawled sarcastically. "If one of my siblings from down under made this slime then it's far from harmless. What color were the feathers?"

"A dark reddish-purple, maybe?"

The archangel froze. With pained reluctance, he turned his attention away from scanning his vessel and looked at the surface of his true self. Sure enough, there was a sticky residue attached to him wherever the sludge had landed. He carefully reached out with his grace to try and remove it, but the moment it made contact the slow burn in his blood turned into a raging bonfire. Dean gasped breathlessly across the room, but Gabriel couldn't focus on anything but the heat and shivers in his spine and the way his skin suddenly felt stretched far too tight.

"What the hell was that…" Dean gasped. He had a hand braced against the wall, tremors running through him. His pupils, Gabriel literally _could not _help noticing, were blown wide and he had started to smell overwhelmingly of pheromones. The angel gulped dryly.

They were screwed.

"That was Pharzuph's favorite cocktail. Think mother of all aphrodisiacs. Or better yet, condensed succubus venom. Not really similar in its make up but the effects are-"

"We got hit with a fuck-or-die curse?" Dean seemed almost indignant. It was a horribly attractive look on him. Which was so not a helpful observation, Gabriel bemoaned internally.

"Not exactly. Actually, I'm fairly sure not a single human's ever died from this." Gabriel grinned.

Dean narrowed his eyes, completely unimpressed, before standing up and _stalking_ towards the trickster who quickly backed up. Not because he didn't like it, but because if Dean came any closer Gabriel was going to do something very, very stupid.

"And what effect does this crap have on angels? If you think I'm letting you die 'cause you got hit by a demon _I_ was after-"

"Oh yes," Gabriel snarled, "play the fucking martyr! It's so attractive. I thought you stopped pulling that card when you managed to derail the apocalypse without becoming a meat suit!"

"Stop changing the damn subject!" Dean slammed a fist into the drywall next to Gabriel's head. They stood there, pulses and tempers flaring erratically, and tension building rapidly between them.

"Even if I was going to die – which I'm not because Pharzie isn't near THAT good – I wouldn't want a pity fuck. Especially not from you," Gabriel gritted out.

Dean shivered and took a deep breath before lowering his forehead to Gabe's shoulder. "Tell me," he whispered to the suddenly frozen angel.

Gabriel gulped and dug his fingers viciously into the wall. "Pharzie… he doesn't do 'fuck and die' scenarios. Thinks they're too straightforward or something. What ends up happening... is that… is that the people just start losing their inhibitions. They get more and more ramped up – like they would with succubus venom – but a simple fuck won't knock them out of it. They'll just get more and more desperate until they lose all perspective on what they're doing and whether or not it's acceptable. The last human that got hit… became something of a serial rapist for about four hours until someone shoved a sword in him."

Dean had tensed up as Gabriel talked, but he hadn't moved or interrupted. Gabriel almost wished he had, because he'd _love_ an excuse not to say the next part.

"For an angel,-" Gabriel gulped, "angels are effected pretty much the same. Except that the method for breaking the whammy on a human usually isn't available to angels. So… they start getting more violent and aggressive until they do something… something that gets them killed or-" he broke off for a moment, panic running through his hyped up body. There weren't many angels that could kill Gabriel even if he lost his mind completely, but Pharzuph had found a nice alternative in this scheme. Gabriel might not die, but he was still going to be irrevocably ruined.

"Or?" Dean prompted quietly.

"… or they do something nasty enough that they Fall."

Dean had seized up at this point but Gabriel couldn't stop once he'd gotten this far.

"Pharzuph's pretty weak offensively. Even less suited to fighting than I am. Or Aziraphale. Or Crowley, for chocolate's sake, and that Fallen deals solely in temptation! But he's really good at manipulating lust and inciting all the violence that can occasionally accompany it. An angel under the influence of that cocktail can easily be driven to damn themselves to the pit in an effort to get relief. And it really doesn't matter that they were drugged to the gills, because the stuff wears off so damn slowly centuries can go by before they regain their sense and it just… It's way too late by then."

"You're not going to Fall, Gabriel." Dean said implacably.

"I don't see how I can avoid it. I've already got a few ideas for tricks I won't be able to resist pulling. They'll be to die for," Gabriel joked morbidly, "especially the trick with the tentacle porn, Pharzie, and TV land."

"The mojo can be broken though. You said it. So, how?" Dean questioned.

"No one's really sure. Pharzie didn't exactly write a rule book, but… on the humans, it's usually sex with someone specific. Someone they know who has certain... inclinations towards the poor sucker. Can't be lust either. Has to be-" Gabriel cut off with a gasp as the spell escaped his hold and sent blood rapidly downward, "be someone who actually gives a damn, but in a romantic way. Taking one for the team, so to speak, won't have any effect. I'd actually approve of the trick if it didn't have literally damning consequences. It's like matchmaking via Hell."

"But the sex doesn't help angels?"

"Didn't help the seraph who got hit with it. After all, Heaven isn't big on office romances where angels are concerned, so there's not a lot of options."

"But you think it wouldn't help you," Dean stated flatly. He lifted his head back up and looked Gabriel straight in the eye. "You're really an idiot for someone who claims that _I'm_ bad at these conversations."

Then Dean sealed his mouth over Gabriel's.

And Gabriel lost it.

A second later they were both on the ground: Dean pinned under Gabriel's smaller body, and Gabriel's wings materialized and spread in an involuntary display while he sucked viciously at Dean's neck. He vaguely hoped (in a small, distant part of his mind) that Castiel had never gotten around to teaching Dean anything about angelic body language, because he _really_ couldn't be bothered to reign his wings in right now. It wasn't until Dean let out a loud broken moan of pleasure that Gabriel managed to lever himself up enough to ask a question.

Not that he could remember what the question actually _was_ right now. Dean went from being handsome to being downright pretty when he was half-naked and lust-crazy. He was also extremely impatient if the legs tugging at Gabriel's waist was part of his normal behavior.

"What do you think you're doing _now_," the human growled in a voice that had sin dripping from it.

"You- you realize," Gabriel shook, "that if this starts, I REALLY won't be able to stop myself. Not even if I'm hurting you."

"Then," Dean smirked, staring at the glowing angel above him as the Hunter dragged nails slowly down the other man's chest, "I suppose you'll just have to make it up to me next time."

The Trickster paused in shock, staring down at the Hunter and what he had implied. A feeling of tentative hope had started to surface from underneath all the fogging lust and want when Dean chose to open his mouth again, "Now fuck me before I go find Anna and ask _her_."

The angel snarled in a way that was anything BUT angelic, and then he bit down hard on Dean's right shoulder. It was the last clear memory the Messenger had before Pharzuph's curse overwhelmed him completely.

* * *

"… and so the crap ended up being sort of like slow-acting succubus venom." Dean finished flatly, still staring at the ceiling and refusing to look at Sam. Gabriel, however, was not only looking at Sam but grinning with an anticipatory gleam in his eye.

"Wait…" Sam said slowly, glancing between the two on the couch. "So the demon didn't actually hurt you?"

"No."

"Then the injuries are from you and Gabriel…" Sam trailed off.

"… pretty much." Dean muttered.

There was silence for a moment before Sam shuddered. "Brain bleach. I need brain bleach. I didn't need these images in my head, damn it."

"But they were such pretty images, Sammy-boy!" Gabriel piped in.

"GABE!" Two voices roared as Sam retreated to the kitchen for a beer and Dean glared knives at the angel next to him. He opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by the slight increase in _something,_ followed immediately by a quiet rustling of feathers.

"Dean."

"Hey Cas," he muttered absently, frowning at Gabriel who had dropped the smile when Cas arrived. Damn angels and their mood swings. Dean was getting pretty damn tired of all the weirdness especially since he wasn't getting an explanation for it out of anyo-

"Why do you reek of Fallen," Castiel demanded as he abruptly reached out and turned Dean towards him.

"Ow! Watch it would you, Cas! And we stink 'cause we ran into a damn demon before we came here," Dean finished with a wince as he awkwardly shifted on the couch.

"And you're injured," Castiel stated flatly, shooting a disapproving look at Gabriel who threw up his hands defensively.

"Hey, I'm not a healer, alright! Archangel, sure, but I'm the _Messenger_. Raph's the healer. Unless it's potentially permanent or long lasting, nobody wants me trying to fix it, and all Deano's got is some scrapes and soft tissue damage."

A very bizarre silence fell as the two archangels had a stare off. It was bewildering; Gabriel rarely had a serious face on and Cas looked slightly pissed off. Sam returned, handed Dean a beer, and then sat down as the two Hunters proceeded to watch the Cas and Gabe show. Frankly, it was boring. TV land was much more interesting. Not that _Dean_ ever wanted to revisit that, hell no, but Sam getting hit in the balls was a damn funny memory.

"I would think," Cas said with a hint of chill, "that injuries obtained from a Fallen would be cause for concern no matter their severity."

A slow and mischievous smirk spread widely across Gabriel's face, "No, Dean wasn't hurt by Pharzie. He got those because he went riding bareback."

Sam choked violently on his drink and Dean went for Gabriel's throat before being reminded viscerally why that was a bad idea at the moment.

_Gabriel is such a fucking pain in the ass_, Dean thought, wincing.

"Exactly," Gabriel drawled.

"I told you angels to knock that off!" Dean snapped.

"I do not understand what horse back riding has to do with either Dean's injuries or demons," Cas questioned.

Everyone turned to stare at the clueless angel in disbelief before Gabriel laughed. "Oh yes, Dean. Please explain to baby bro' how bare backing got your ass worn out."

"TMI, Gabriel!" Sam snapped. "T.M. fucking I!"

_Fuck it_, Dean thought as he lunged towards the Trickster, who disappeared. "Get back here, Gabriel! I'm not explaining this shit!"

"I still don't understand-"

"It's not _important_, Cas," Dean said desperately. "Please tell me you have more beer, Sam."

Sam handed over his own beer along with a bottle of pain killers before returning to the kitchen for more alcohol. "You know, I think our lives were less ridiculous during the apocalypse."


End file.
